


I Only Wish for You

by mandilorian



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: A bit of a love letter to Boston, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Does it count if only one of them is faking?, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, ish?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:42:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27892516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandilorian/pseuds/mandilorian
Summary: Grantaire's Christmas wish is for Enjolras to be his boyfriend for a day. Enjolras obliges.
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 50
Collections: Les Mis Holiday Exchange (2020)





	I Only Wish for You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merelydovely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelydovely/gifts).



> I hope you like this! The story got away from the prompt a tiny bit, these characters have minds of their own, man.
> 
> My eternal gratitude and best holiday wishes to the organizers and moderators, you guys are wonderful.
> 
> Title came from a Ramin Karimloo [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7zfQIgoxqew) because I am still low key trash for the 25th anniversary concert.

_Twas the night before Christmas,_

Enjolras outright whined when he emptied his bag onto his kitchen counter and found that he had left his notebook in the Musain. It was freezing outside. Late December in Boston would forever be freezing, global warming notwithstanding. He sighed, wondering if he should just wait until the morning to get the damn thing back, but he planned on not putting on real pants and cocooning himself all weekend. Tis’ the season after all. 

This evening, the ABC had just had their last meeting of the year, which doubled as their annual Christmas dinner. Obviously the meeting was a lot less productive than usual; they were mostly drinking and outlining their plan for next year. They were doing well, all things considered, this year had been tough on everyone and it was a relief it would finally end. Sometimes Enjolras was still surprised by how they had managed to continue their college club well into their adulthood. One of his co-founders, Combeferre was now an actual surgeon and Enjolras worked with Courfeyrac, the other founder, at an immigration law firm downtown. He’d gone to court just this morning for his client's last trial of the year and the rest of his work could all wait until he got back to work on Monday. Enjolras was excited to get some breathing space. He looked forward to picking up a few novels that had been on his to-read list for far too long. Hell, he might even make his famous corn casserole for maximum coziness.

The thought cheered him up somewhat as he finally made it back to the Musain. The main bar was busy with college students and young professionals, all celebrating the end of a very trying year. Laughter and conversation carried him to the backroom and he hoped that the staff hadn't had a chance to clean it yet. He knew exactly where he left his notebook. 

He heard a few familiar voices from the room and he was about to announce his greetings (again) when he heard his name.

“Enjolras would make a terrible boyfriend,” Grantaire’s voice proclaimed.

Of course it was Grantaire. No one else would even have an opinion regarding Enjolras’ performance as their significant other. After three years of knowing the man, Grantaire remained an enigma to him. 

Grantaire was in the third year of his fine arts fellowship program, but he seemed to have a thousand and one projects going on at the same time. Throughout their...friendship(?) Enjolras had been to multiple gallery exhibitions, boxing matches, fencing matches, and one particularly memorable ballet production of 1984. All the while Enjolras had been working at the same law firm. He’d gone from college to law school and straight into a small, mainly pro bono immigration law practice, a polar opposite to Grantaire who’d joined the peace corps and traveled the world after getting his own degree. Years ago, Bahorel had tricked Grantaire into joining the ABC’s meeting after one of their kickboxing classes. He was adopted by everyone else and simply stayed.

They were as different as a pair of friends could be within such a tight-knit group of people. Enjolras might have been entertaining a thought of taking the first step towards becoming something more, which was why Grantaire’s declaration particularly stung.

Fortunately, Bossuet swooped in, “Oh come on, R. I know you are not that close, but he is much more empathetic than most people gave him credit for. I’m disappointed you'd said that.”

Enjolras made a mental note to upgrade Bossuet’s Christmas present this year. The first aid kit would not do.

“No, no, my friends. I am not saying he isn’t the best thing since sliced bread, because let’s be honest, he kinda is,” Grantaire replied to a loud boo from Eponine.

Eponine would be getting nothing but socks this year, only the pinkest, fluffiest socks.

He strained to listen closer as multiple people started talking at the same time, mostly to make fun of the bread statement, but Grantaire persisted, “I am saying Enjolras had no time to spare. He’s a lawyer and he fundraises for every injustice under the sun on weekends he doesn’t go out and offers free legal advice on street corners. Can you imagine our dates?” Grantaire chuckled before continuing. “R, could you proofread this statement while I draft my opening for the next case? R, could you design a banner for our next event while I have my zoom meeting? You can stay right here, but please don’t make any noise?”

The room erupted into laughter at Grantaire’s somewhat spot-on impression of Enjolras before Eponine again interjected,

“To be fair, you do make a lot of noises.” Enjolras saw Grantaire throw a napkin at her, but she was committed. “You actually don’t sound like you would mind. If you could have him as a boyfriend for Christmas, would you take it?”

“It would be my greatest Christmas wish to have Enjolras, Apollo, the epitome of perfection, a physical embodiment of a cat’s purr, as my boyfriend, fairy godmother.” 

Well, well, well, what do you know?

* * *

Enjolras went back and forth on his admittedly deranged plan all night. After he'd heard Grantaire’s insulting statement, he used the room’s general tipsiness to his advantage and got his notebook back unnoticed. He then paced his own living room for an hour while deciding on how to proceed.

The easy way out was obvious. He would just pretend last night didn’t happen, none would be the wiser, Grantaire especially. 

The louder voice in his head, however, said he wanted to take a leap of faith.

Part of it was, of course, pride. Enjolras was busy, but he had been busy all his life. He had understood from a very young age, running for class president and seeing his mother’s face when he forgot her birthday for the first (and last) time, that people had to make time for things they valued. Neither meaningful connections nor social changes would materialize out of his desire alone. He needed to show commitment and he had long learned to balance his love. He’d hardly ever missed any of the Amis’ milestones. Last year, he might have shown up to Joly’s med school's graduation ceremony late, but he was there. He attended most if not all exhibitions that featured Grantaire’s pieces. All his breakups happened amicably and none of his exes ever called him a bad boyfriend, thank you very much.

The other part was Grantaire’s gravity. Enjolras could not understand Grantaire and the more he wondered, the more attention he paid to the man. He'd noticed that Grantaire was more at ease with everyone than he was with Enjolras. He'd noticed that Grantaire had an endless supply of random expertise and was second only to Combeferre when it came to sweeping trivia nights. He'd noticed that Grantaire was observant with little things; he brought Jehan their favorite flowers when they were down and always volunteered to cover any restaurant shifts Feuilly couldn't make. He'd noticed that Grantaire touched his neck when he was embarrassed and he seemed to hate receiving compliments more than anything in the world.

And he'd noticed a soft look in Grantaire’s eyes if his gaze landed on Enjolras when he thought no one was watching. He suspected the same thing that had prevented him from sitting down next to the man at meetings and asking him to get coffee, just the two of them, had stopped Grantaire from taking the first step as well.

All's well that ends well, right?

* * *

_Christmas Morning_

Enjolras burst into Combeferre and Courfeyrac’s shared apartment at the crack of dawn because he couldn’t pretend to sleep a minute more.

“Grantaire thinks I would make a terrible boyfriend!” Enjolras announced to the bedroom before realizing that the lumps under the blanket were moving in a very _specific_ manner. 

“What the fuck, Enjolras! Get the fuck out,” yelped Coufeyrac.

“But you gave me the key!”

“For emergencies, not for your teenage crushes,” Combeferre said exasperatedly, moving away from Courfeyrac.

“Hey!” Courfeyrac and Enjolras protested in unison, though for vastly different reasons.

Combeferre only dropped his lips onto the smaller man’s neck and whispered something that Enjolras was certain he didn’t want to know. Courfeyrac muttered some curses, but he giggled and exhaled audibly before turning to Enjolras. “Go make some coffee and we will consider not changing the lock.”

Enjolras dutifully retreated to the kitchen and started the process of brewing a truly gigantic pot of coffee. He and Combeferre agreed that the limit for the number of coffees one should consume does not exist, much to Joly’s anguish. 

Five minutes later, the couple emerged somewhat presentable from the bedroom and Courfeyrac continued to glare daggers at Enjolras.

Combeferre, ever the sensible one, grabbed a cup of coffee and wordlessly handed it to his partner before turning back to the matter at hand.

“You said something about Grantaire?”

Enjolras, relieved to be allowed to unburden his woes without a threat of physical harm from Combeferre’s other half, repeated his complaint about Grantaire’s prediction once more.

“He’s not wrong,” Courfeyrac muttered, but Combeferre kicked him under the table. “What? People with a regular sex life do not barge into someone else’s bedroom first thing in the morning.” Courfeyrac was clearly not over being cockblocked on a weekend, but he was also a good friend so he continued,

“Let me get this straight,” he said with a wink to a collective groan of Enjolras and Combeferre. “Grantaire said you, as his boyfriend, would make him help you with work all day, and yet he wouldn’t mind it?”

“Well, that. But mostly what he said was that he thought I would make a terrible boyfriend because I’m a workaholic and I need to prove him wrong,” Enjolras said, emphasizing on the proving Grantaire wrong part. Everyone needed to understand how important that part was.

Combeferre leveled his signature you-are-being-an-idiot look at Enjolras and prompted, “And you need to change his mind because…”

“Because he’s wrong! And you know how I feel about his cynicism.”

Combeferre sighed and Enjolras fought the need to squirm. Courfeyrac, however, was the one that picked up the conversation again. “You have been dealing with his cynicism for three years, why are you interrupting my impending orgasm now?”

“TMI!”

“Oh, as if you haven’t seen more,” Courfeyrac said, rolling his eyes.

“Like I said, I can prove him wrong and I intend to do it by fulfilling his Christmas wish.”

Combeferre frowned. His disapproval diameter went from people who keep saying tomatoes are fruits to Marius' take on Nancy Pelosi. Enjolras was ready to walk out of their Cambridge apartment to escape the Second Coming level of judgment when Combeferre spoke again.

“I think we all know why this matters,” he began. “To be honest, I think it is high time you both stop this roundabout dance you have both been doing and put us all out of our misery. Bahorel is a few hours away from locking you and Grantaire in a room full of sex toys anyway.” 

Enjolras leaped to his feet, he’d learned to quit while he’s ahead with Combeferre. “Right, we are all in agreement then, I’ll get started on the first part of the plan.”

Combeferre held up a finger. Not that easy, then. “What I want to know is, why can’t you just ask him out like a not insane person?”

Why not? It wasn’t like Enjolras hadn’t considered that option for months, or years, if he was honest with himself. It was the knowledge that deep down, he knew that Grantaire was not an easy option. He knew they would fight and push and pull, but they would be it. It was never going to be a casual cup of coffee. It would be all in, for him at least, and he wasn’t sure he could stand it if Grantaire was not certain about them, forever looking for a sign that Enjolras wanted out.

He needed to do this. He needed to establish once and for all that he could be good for Grantaire. That they could be everything.

* * *

Step one: setting the scene

Grantaire opened the door with a spectacular bedhead. Enjolras had to stop himself from giggling because the sight alone was worth the price of admission. Grantaire’s hair had always had a mind of its own, but seemed to run extra wild at night.

The man in question rubbed his eyes with his hand and stared at Enjolras, dumbfounded.

“What are you doing here at this ungodly hour?” His eyes widened. “Did anyone die?”

Enjolras had to follow his script or the whole jinx would be up before he knew it, but he couldn’t stop the startled laugh bubbling out of him. He rushed to cover it by leaning in to give Grantaire a peck on his cheek.

“No one is dead, R. I’m picking you up for our Christmas brunch of course,” he said while walking into Granatire’s open-plan studio as if he had done the same thing hundreds of times.

“Christmas? We didn’t have plans for Christmas. I didn’t even know you were in town. Aren’t you supposed to be in Hartford with your family?” Grantaire didn’t move from his own doorway and he continued to stare at Enjolras like he’d grown a second head. The only difference was now he had his right hand up on his face, rubbing a spot where Enjolras’ lips were, as if to assure himself that Enjolras really was there.

Enjolras shouldn't have found it so adorable.

With a bright smile, he continued his charade. “Of course I am not with them. It is our first Christmas together and I told them I am going to spend it with my boyfriend.” He tapped his watch. “Really, Grantaire, it's nearly eleven. We are going to be late for brunch if you don’t get ready.” 

“We...are going to brunch?” Grantaire was just sleepy enough to not question the most suspecting part of Enjolras’ statement. Enjolras took advantage of the confusion and ushered him into the bathroom for a shower. He then saw Grantaire’s phone on the kitchen table and made an executive decision to pocket it, lest Grantaire decided to text one of their friends to ask if he actually had a boyfriend named Enjolras.

He sat down on Grantaire’s beat-up couch that they had picked up from the curb on what was affectionately called Allston Christmas, the day of moving for college students in the area. Joly outright refused to touch the thing for fear of bedbugs, but Bahorel basically picked it up with no extra help. The rest of Grantaire’s mismatched furniture, from the ancient T.V. to the solid bookshelf, all came courtesy of street corners as well. The only things he spent any money on were his art supplies. 

There was some kind of order within chaos here. Grantaire’s shelves and cabinets were overflowing with books and artworks, but upon closer inspection, the books were categorized by genre and then arranged alphabetically. The kitchen was also filled to the brim with pots and pans, but they were all clean and obviously used. Enjolras’ apartment was sparse at best. Besides a huge bulletin board full of pictures and old posters of the Les Amis, he didn’t have much by way of decoration. He’d had neither the time nor skills to make his apartment look homely. 

Homely was probably the best way to describe Grantaire’s space too. It was cluttered, yes, but the view of the Charles was magnificent and everything in the apartment was well worn, well-loved. Enjolras felt a pang of self-consciousness that hadn’t been there before. How many times had Grantaire been to his apartment and felt the impersonal nature of it all? 

His train of thought was interrupted by Grantire’s reappearance in the living room. He was wearing a green sweater and dark blue jeans. His hair was soaking wet as if he had dunked himself in the bathtub as opposed to taking a shower. Oh, and he looked absolutely mortified.

“Am I hallucinating?” Grantaire said, eyes darting around the room like he was waiting for a camera crew or a poltergeist to show up. “You said we are together?”

“Of course you are not hallucinating. Are you alright though? Are you sick? Should we postpone the brunch and just stay in and snuggle?” Enjolras was nothing if not committed. 

Grantaire’s considerably large eyes went as wide as saucers and he stuttered out a string of fervent negatives. Enjolras felt slightly awful at that. The man must have been terrified of cuddling him in the privacy of his own apartment. Enjolras dealt with it by dragging Grantaire out of the door under the disguise of making their reservation on time. They took the T to Boston Common, where Enjolras made sure to book a restaurant overlooking the city's Christmas tree.

Along the way, Grantaire begun to accept his new reality philosophically. He asked careful questions about their relationship (six months next week). How they got together (a movie date after one meeting). He was hesitant about the more intimate details, for which Enjolras was grateful. He would have no idea how to respond to graphic questions without feeling like he was exploiting Grantaire’s feelings too much. When silence started to veer toward the uncomfortable, Enjolras took Grantaire’s hand in his and kissed his palm gently. Grantaire startled, but he then looked at Enjolras with a shy, pleased smile on his lips. Enjolras couldn’t make himself feel too bad about that dirty trick.

And if he laced his fingers through Grantaire’s for the rest of the way, no one should fault him for that either.

* * *

Step two: a meal with a view

They were seated by the window at Enjolras' request. He made a mental note to give a huge tip for bothering the staff for half an hour for their prime seats on the phone last night. He just needed to make sure today went perfectly and maybe they would finally see what was on the other side. 

The other side, right now though, was a tattered Christmas tree half wrapped in hideous green plastic.

“What? What happened to the tree?” Enjolras couldn’t quite hide his anguish. He was more appalled by Grantaire’s uncontrollable giggles.

“The tree always looks like that, Enjolras, it’s kind of a Boston thing.”

“Why? How? But you always made such a big deal about going to the tree lighting ceremony!”

Grantaire just continued to laugh. “This is what you get from never joining us. The trees are always underwhelming, it’s part of the charm. It came all the way from Nova Scotia. Did you know that Boston was one of the first cities to send help to Nova Scotia after the Halifax Explosion in 1917? Anyway, it's kinda nice they are still sending their trees here as a thank you over a hundred years later. It’s just so windy here they get damaged within a few days, but two years ago we got a figure skating show before they lit it though!”

Enjolras was horrified. He wanted the view. He knew Granatire loved the tree unironically and this was way too early for his plan to get derailed. The emotion must have been evident on his face since Grantaire now looked at him quizzically.

“Why is this such a big deal to you? You haven’t noticed the tree for all of the time I’ve known you. The tree could have been replaced by a Buddha statue last year and you wouldn’t even do a double take.”

“And neither should you. We have separation of church and state here for a reason. People should be able to celebrate or not celebrate any day they want and it’s no one’s business,” Enjolras huffed.

“Ahh, that’s more like it,” Grantaire replied with a wink and Enjolras rolled his eyes, as it was their practiced dance. It didn’t stop his stomach doing a drum circle though.

Thankfully, the waitress elected that moment to show up and take their orders. Enjolras was surprised that Grantaire chose a vegetarian dish instead of clam chowder, his known favorite. 

“An unusual choice today?” Enjolras asked, but Grantaire just looked confused (more confused, actually, since that had been his default ever since he'd let Enjolras into his apartment earlier).

“The spinach lasagna? I’ve been a vegetarian for a few months now,” Grantaire said, lifting his eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you have known that since you are my boyfriend?”

Enjolras scrambled to reply that he had simply forgotten, but he was quietly happy about the change, now they have one more thing in common, he pocketed that knowledge away for future conversation starters. Maybe he could make Grantaire his favorite soup when Grantaire got too busy with deadlines in the future. 

Whoa there. Enjolras was very much getting ahead of himself.

The rest of the meal went well enough. They fell back into their easy conversation; Grantaire told Enjolras about his new commission and Enjolras updated him on the ABC's most recent blog post. They agreed that Bahorel's holiday themed outfits were somehow less offensive than his workwear and were comparing notes on the man's top five most perplexing pants, when they heard nervous laughter from a table nearby. They both turned to look at a couple who couldn’t have been older than sixteen when they heard the girl’s voice.

“Umm, I don’t think we actually have to kiss.”

“Oh, come on. You are being ridiculous. It’s mistletoe, of course, we have to.”

Sure enough, when Enjolras looked up, he saw that every table had a sprig of mistletoe hanging over them. He excused himself to look for the manager and saw Grantaire got up out of the corner of his eyes. He thought Grantaire was just following him, but the man stopped by the teenagers’ table, cracking his knuckles audibly to the wide-eyed surprise of his unwitting audience. 

“It is never too late to learn about consent,” Grantaire began. “Do you know that no one, I repeat, no one, is obligated to kiss you against their will even if you were sleeping beauty herself? Even if you were a frog? And especially not when you are an asshole.”

Enjolras had to laugh, the kids were in good hands then. He left the scene to intimidate the manager for their careless decoration and stole Grantaire’s lecture on the importance of consent in the process. The manager gave them free desserts with a promise to take down the mistletoe, but Grantaire refused to eat any since he was certain “there’s spit in there”.

So, the first stage of Enjolras’ plan ended in a minor disaster. He grumbled as they left the restaurant and Grantaire eyed him skeptically.

“Out with it,” he prodded

“There’s nothing wrong,” Enjolras replied, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“Hmm. We educated teenagers on consent, took down a questionable holiday decoration, and had a delicious vegetarian Christmas brunch. This is like one of your wet dreams, so why the long face?”

“I just wanted it to be perfect.” 

Grantaire stared at him incredulously. “Your whole brand is perfection is the enemy of progress and you are obsessed with educating children, what’s with they are the future and all that? Wasn’t the meal technically perfect by your usual standards?”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to do that every day.” He knew he was being difficult, but he wanted Grantaire to see his fun side, and not to affirm the man that yes, their dates would always involve appealing to the masses and social justice crusades. 

“Who are you and what have you done with my Enjolras?” If Grantaire’s eyebrows climbed any higher they would disappear into his hair. “Wait, let me test you, being a billionaire isn’t a moral failing since wealth is aspirational in our society.”

“BILLIONAIRES ARE DISGUSTING EXAMPLES OF A FAILING SOCIETY THAT PRIORITIZES MONEY OVER HUMANITY AND EQUITABILITY. We’ve been through this at the last three town halls!” Enjolras couldn’t stop this automatic response and Grantaire burst into laughter.

“You are not a pod person with Enjolras’s skin after all! I no longer fear for my life and my organs.” Grantaire pretended to recover from a swoon and Enjolras felt like himself again.

“You are ridiculous,” he said with a smile. Enjolras grabbed Grantaire’s hand in his again and swung them because it just felt right. He guided Grantaire towards the Frog Pond, which honest to God glittered with a blanket of snow and freshly cleaned ice. Every tree was dotted with icicles and the shops around the ice skating rink were brimming with Christmas lights and cheer. Bostonian had woken up to a perfect Christmas, it seemed. 

Boston was an old place, an inexplicable mix of American history and fresh-faced idealistic students who were adopted into the city, just like the very first waves of immigrants before them. Unlike New York or L.A., it was rough around the edges. There was something unpretentious about Boston, something warm and sincere, despite the layers of gruffness. Sort of like the man next to him, he observed, just when Grantaire smiled up at the peaceful scene in front of them.

Enjolras knew it was a matter of time before the snow turned slushy and the freezing rain got them all planning a move to the Caribbean, but he’d never let what was interfere with what could be. Right now, he wished he could put the scene in a snow globe. He wished he could put himself and Grantaire in a snow globe, their hands forever intertwined. 

Grantaire outright laughed when he saw Enjolras’ destination.

“Apollo, you are many things, but coordinated isn’t one of them.”

Enjolras put his hand on his chest in mock outrage. “Excuse me, I know how to ice skate. I did it once in college, I'll have you know.”

“I once saw you fall on the steps of your own apartment.”

“That was one time!”

“That I saw.”

“The steps were very slippery!”

“Sure, Jan.”

* * *

Step three: Hallmark Christmas movie reenactment

They finally made it to the skate rental stall and Enjolras paid for both their skates because, as he reminded Grantaire, he was a good boyfriend. Grantaire looked like he would disagree, but he just sighed with fond exasperation. Enjolras counted that as a win.

Which was looking more and more like it would be his last win of the day, actually.

Enjolras did not think ice skating would be this hard. He might have lied about having done it before, but for goodness’s sake, a toddler just whirled past them. Any idiots on the painfully heteronormative romantic comedies he secretly loved seemed to be able to propose or spin their loved ones around with ease. 

Enjolras, however, resembled Bambi walking on ice for the first time. He knew this because Grantaire told him so.

Speaking of the devil. Grantaire was a sight to behold. He had always been graceful in any kind of athletic situation. Enjolras remembered vividly a salsa night and a fencing meet that got him uncomfortably flustered, even when he couldn’t take his eyes off Grantaire. Today was no exception. Grantaire did a little skip and twisted backward, winking at Enjolras in the process. Little kids started trailing him and he spin them around slowly one by one.

Was it in bad form to be jealous of a bunch of elementary school kids? It was so painfully adorable that Enjolras thought he would die from smiling. The next thing he knew, Grantaire showed up right behind him dragging a penguin skating aid behind.

“No. Absolutely not,” Enjolras said, mortified.

“Oh come on! You can’t spend the whole hour holding on to the rail,” Grantaire wheedled. “Please? Do it for me?” He batted his long lashes for the maximum puppy eyes effect.

“Stop it, I lived with Courfeyrac for three years. I am immune to that.” 

“But you paid for it! I want you to have fun.” Grantaire seemed unsure all of a sudden and Enjolras realized that the ridiculousness of the penguin betrayed Grantaire’s earnest desire to see him enjoying himself.

“Maybe you...could hold my hands? Like you did with those kids?” Enjolras ventured.

Grantaire all but melted as he took his hands. He began by skating backward so that Enjolras could see better. 

This gentle consideration did not make Enjolras’ heart flip over. Not at all.

When he judged that it was safe to let go of one hand, Grantaire smoothly glided to Enjolras’ left, so they were now side by side.

“Good?” Grantaire asked.

“Never better,” Enjolras replied sincerely, squeezing his hand. 

Then Enjolras slipped on a small tear in the ice and promptly split his lip.

“Oh my God! Enjolras, holy shit are you ok?” Grantaire frantically pulled him up to his feet and dragged him to a bench outside of the rink. He left to find a member of staff who gave him some clean cloth and told him to apply pressure on the wound.

“Goodness, Enjolras, I know I like comparing you to deities, but you have to know your own limits occasionally,” Grantaire said while taking off his skates. He moved to help Enjolras with his while Enjolras tried not to be distracted by the very picture of Grantaire on his knees.

“I am sorry about this. I ruined everything,” he mumbled.

“No you didn’t. You ruined your own face, but that face can take a lot of beating before it can actually get remotely ruined, so you’re good,” Grantaire said with a wink.

Enjolras would not be deterred. “I wanted today to be perfect and-”

"Not this again, what is it with you and perfection today? You are being really odd,” Grantaire snapped.

“Because you deserve the world,” he said quietly, feeling resigned.

Grantaire took a long look at him, seemingly reaching some sort of decision. “It occurred to me, that if you are going to give me a perfect day, then I should have some say on the matter. You clearly cannot be trusted to plan a date.” 

“Hey!” Enjolras protested weakly before realizing what Grantaire was doing. “Oh God, we are going to an art gallery where all of the pieces go over my head aren’t we?” He chuckled at Grantaire’s affronted look. “By all means, educate me.”

“I am taking you to a notorious crime scene, actually.”

* * *

The crime scene happened to be, of course, a museum. The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum to be exact. Enjolras had to give it to his date, life with Grantaire would never be boring.

“Very sly,” Enjolras said. “I should have known I was right all along.”

“But I delivered! Did you know that the art theft here is the largest property theft in American history? Vermeer, Rembrandt, random Napoleon's eagle? All taken in one go. The damages lasted for decades. It ripped the fabric of the art world. In your words, they broke a social contract. Before that, we were all operating under an assumption that arts were to be revered and arts in museums are public goods. Why would anyone want to lock something inexhaustible away for personal consumption when you could just go to a museum and look at it?” Grantaire shook his head bitterly, his tone shifted from carefree to desolate. “In the grand scheme of things, of course, art theft doesn’t even make the top twenty worst things humans have done to one another, but it does reveal the worst in us. This ugly greed and the senselessness of it all just bothered the hell out of me.”

Enjolras reached out and took his hand again. “It was awful. And I really don’t blame you for how you feel.” Enjolras stroked his thumb on Grantaire’s palm. “Is there anything I can do to make it better though?”

Grantaire brightened at that. He smiled at Enjolras and said, "You didn’t think I brought you here for art lessons and a criminal investigation, did you?”

“It’s...an art museum. Why else would you have brought me here.”

In lieu of an answer, Grantaire dragged him through the door and paid for their tickets. Instead of the winding staircase that leads to the gallery though, Grantaire took him to the courtyard.

“This is why.”

Enjolras stopped short. He came face to face with a gorgeous rectangular space, flanked by two marble lions under a grand arch leading to a courtyard. Jade trees, hollies, poinsettias, and a variety of plants he couldn’t possibly name lined the elegant arches and garden sculptures. The upper floors overlooking the garden were punctuated by Venetian columns bearing ferns and shrubs, as not to be outdone by the ground itself. One of the highlights, however, was the skylight roof. It allowed the winter sun to seep through gently. The courtyard was flooded with lights that shimmered onto every leaf and statue. It was a scene ripped from the sappiest, cliché romantic movies ever made, and the soft, instrumental Christmas music didn't help. Enjolras loved every inch of it.

“You didn’t tell me the Great Hall’s ceiling was here,” said Enjolras. He turned around to look at Grantaire, who couldn’t quite hide a pleased smile under his signature smirk. 

He attempted a minimally successful nonchalant shrug. “I’ve always kinda wanted to bring you here. It is my favorite place in this city and I thought you might like it too.”

“Of course I do, who wouldn't?”

Grantaire chuckled softly before he replied, “In an abstract sense, yes, I knew anyone would, but you, specifically, love this world more than life itself. You want to see it grow better, kinder, and there’s always more work for you to do. I get that, I do.” He paused, looking at Enjolras. He hesitated over the next few words. “You want so much, Enjolras, and don’t get me wrong, I adore that about you. But I am also terrified. I am terrified of you burning out, the brightest flame can be just an explosion after all. It scared me that one day you would take on too much and people would disappoint you-- and I guess, I just don’t ever want you to lose sight of what you are fighting for.

"Maybe all the tree lighting ceremony invitations and this garden are my way to make sure you stop and smell the roses sometimes.” Grantaire’s tensions eased from his shoulders. “I just wanted you to see small things too.”

Enjolras couldn’t help it, he had to bring Grantaire’s hand up and kissed his knuckles gently. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,” said Enjolras. “I know I can get too wrapped up in the big picture and all the tasks in front of me. If it’s not too much trouble, would you remind me occasionally to take a deep breath?”

“Even though I take your breath away?” Grantaire deadpanned.

Enjolras startled into a laugh before he could stop himself. Leave it to Grantaire to stop any magical moment with terrible puns or excruciating jokes. “Oh my God, that was awful. That was literally the worst thing you have ever said and that includes your impromptu TED talk on breakfast food.”

“Hey the breakfast agenda must be stopped. Eggs Benedict and waffles are delightful and they should be offered at every meal. They are filling and nutritious. We should all be outraged we couldn’t have them for dinner! Do you know that in Thailand, they have toast for dessert? Like it’s a thing. There are restaurants that serve nothing but toast! They put honey and ice cream on it and everything. We should totally have toast for dessert here too.”

“We have bread pudding?”

“Not the same, you heathen. I am talking actual sliced bread under a grill with butter and all the toppings you can think of. See? Your imagination is so limited because the Man wants us to believe certain foods are breakfast only. Liberate yourself, Enjolras, free your mind, just like Eve tasting the apple or the pomegranate depending on who you ask. Do not bow to the breakfast agenda.”

“Are we really risking eternal damnation for toast?” Enjolras asked, genuine curiosity mixed with amusement. 

“We are both queer atheists, if eternal damnation is a thing toast is the least of our concern.”

“This is why the interpretation of the Bible must be overhauled. We need to stop using religion as a tool for alienation, the idea of otherness is-”

“Ahh, so, does that mean the so-called breakfast food is also a tool for alienation and we should not obey it? It separates those who love eggs and those who don't,” Grantaire replied, wiggling a finger triumphantly. “While we’re at it, how do you feel about Christmas music being played year-round?”

Enjolras pretended to huff, but he was content to let Grantaire lead him around the rest of the museum. They kept their banter up while Grantaire steered him towards particular pieces of furniture and artworks that he liked. They were looking at old manuscripts in the hallway when Enjolras heard his name being called.

“Whoa, Enjolras! I didn’t know you have time for leisure,” said a handsome, bearded man wearing a flannel shirt and tight jeans. He turned to Grantaire. “Hi, I’m Matt. Enjolras and I went on a disastrous blind date last week, so you’d better watch out. He said he had no time for a relationship.” 

Matt clearly meant it to be a joke, but he took in the stunned expression on Grantaire’s face and Enjolras’ unnatural stillness as a clue. The man scrambled to backtrack.

“It was nothing serious of course, we were both dragged there by our well-meaning colleagues, but we were a terrible match. I work for the advertising agency that does PR for his firm.”

Enjolras recovered by then. He gripped Grantaire’s hand tighter when he felt the other man pulling away. “It is nice to see you, Matt. For the record, I didn’t even know we were supposed to be on a date until I got there. If you’d excuse us, Grantaire and I are making Christmas dinner later.”

As soon as they turned the corner, Grantaire pulled away, a wounded look on his face.

“What the fuck? What the actual fuck, Enjolras? You said we’ve been together for six months?”

“Please, Grantaire, slow down. I can explain.”

“Then fucking start!” Grantaire bellowed, heedless of the startled passersby on the sidewalk.

Enjolras had a choice here. He could either keep up the façade and hurt Grantaire more or deal with the fallout. 

“I overheard you at the Musain the other day.”

Grantaire stared at him in disbelief. “So you finally got a confirmation that I was pathetically in love with you and instead of letting me down directly, you decided to do this? To toy with my feelings?” Tears welled up in his eyes and Grantaire rubbed them away not too gently. “I know, I really do know that I made it obvious and that I was a nuisance to you. If it made you uncomfortable, if I crossed the line, you could have just told me. I would have done whatever you asked.”

Enjolras didn’t think he would ever get over the look on Grantaire’s face. It was twisted with hurt and disappointment and Enjolras was the one that put them there. He was being selfish. He didn’t consider how the deception would make Grantaire feel, he was well on his way to destroying whatever hope for the future the two of them might have had. He was about to apologize when Grantaire cut him off again. 

“I know you can be cavalier with people, but this was deliberately cruel. Go to hell, Enjolras.”

With that, he stormed off, cutting through the public park. After a few stunned seconds, Enjolras followed him, unwilling to prolong the misunderstanding. He broke into a run and asked Grantaire to stop and listen to him, but Grantaire was trembling and only stomped faster, with rage or hurt he couldn’t tell. Family and couples complained as he shoved past them, ignoring the shouting and chaos he left behind.

When he caught up, he pulled the smaller man into his chest and held him tightly. Grumbling pedestrians all but forgotten. 

“Please, give me five minutes and you never have to look at me again. Please, just one chance. Please, I’ll do anything.” He felt Grantaire stiffened but he gave a small, imperceptible nod that Enjolras only felt because he was holding on for dear life, too afraid Grantaire would still bolt. 

“I overheard you at the Musain the other day and I just wanted to give you this.”

Grantaire pulled back. “What is this?”

“Us.”

“There is no us, no matter how committed you are to this unhinged alternative universe.”

Enjolras felt his heart pounding faster. One shot, he was getting only one shot. “There could be. That is my whole point. There could be an us and it could be good. It could be the best thing ever if we just give it a chance.”

“Then just come out and say it! Why didn’t you just say it this morning when I answered the door? There was no need to humiliate me.” Grantaire stepped away entirely, confusion and anger still written all over his face. 

“Because I needed to show you!” Enjolras whispered, voice breaking. “I lied to you and I’m sorry about that. But you knew how you felt about me for years and you never did anything. You are skeptical and scared and I didn’t think you would believe me, Grantaire, you wouldn’t have believed me if I said I love you.”

“You love me?”

"Of course I do! Why on earth would I go through all the trouble? Look, I don’t see us ever breaking up, so I know that we have to be sure. We both have to be ready before we start anything because this is it. We are an endgame. Whether or not the world gets better or worse. Whether or not I get jaded or keep trying. I know you are the one and I was just so sick of waiting for the right moment.” 

He ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up even more than the wind and the snow did. He was shaking as badly as Grantaire was by this point. “I know it was a lot to ask and I am sorry I went about it in the worst way possible, but I am not apologizing for how I feel, how you made me feel today. I would like to have more days like this, as long as you’d let me.”

Grantaire swallowed audibly. “You have thought of this.”

“Yes.”

“And this isn’t just pride or your weird obsession with beating me in an argument?”

“Your arguments are for show, Grantaire, we both know there is no beating you.” 

To his surprise, Grantaire started giggling. “I fucking knew it!” He gave up on dignity and was wheezing by the time he managed to talk again. “I was so sure someone slipped me a pill last night. What were you going with? A Christmas fucking miracle?”

“Something like that,” Enjolras replied ruefully. Feeling something like hope slowly spread around his chest. “Can you forgive me?”

Grantaire grumbled, “I don’t think I have a choice. I don’t think loving you was ever a choice.”

He let Enjolras wrap him in a tight hug again, much less wooden this time. And this time, Grantaire allowed him to have a little more. He gingerly lifted his arms around Enjolras’ shoulders, clenching the pea coat in his hands, and breathed him in.

Enjolras pulled back a little to place a gentle kiss on his head, followed by each side of his cheeks, then his nose. He rested his forehead on Grantaire's and asked between the infinitely small space of their shared breaths, “May I?”

Grantaire tilted his chin up instead of answering and Enjolras bent down to finally, _finally_ , kiss him.

Their lips were cold, nearly frozen since they were standing around outside in the middle of a New England winter like a couple of idiots. Enjolras saw that Grantaire's nose was bright red, both from the cold and from all the crying earlier and he couldn't care less. Right here, at this moment, he could taste the other man's honey chapstick and he savored the perfection of it all, Grantaire surrendering his whole body into the kiss. He made a pleased hum in his throat and parted his lips slightly, again, letting Enjolras have everything he wanted. 

Snow fell quietly around them while children laughed and adults went on about their day, unaware that at that very moment, two people had just kissed the love of their life for the first time.

“Merry Christmas, R.”

* * *

_Boxing Day_

Enjolras stumbled into his kitchen at eight in the morning. He didn’t have to go to work today, but he still had a few things to do. He mentally listed all his tasks for the day, a speech for the ABC’s next fundraising, an opening statement for a trial next week, and then dinner with his boyfriend.

He smiled at the thought, he had a significant other now and the day was looking better by the minute. Enjolras started the coffee machine and got oatmeal out of the cupboard, cinnamon and apple then, warm and sweet to match his sappy mood. He looked at his apartment and smiled contentedly. Yesterday, on a whim, he had bought a huge amount of memorabilia from the museum’s gift shop as a first step to making his apartment more welcoming. He was about to have a regular visitor after all.

He was halfway through the bowl and his second cup of coffee when the doorbell rang.

Upon inspection, he found Grantaire smiling sheepishly in front of the door while rubbing the back of his neck.

“Hey you,” Enjolras said while bending down for a chaste kiss on a corner of his visitor’s mouth. Grantaire still looked stunned despite their many, many kisses yesterday.

He led Grantaire to the couch and helped him with his canvas bags, why had he brought so much stuff anyway? And were those cauliflowers? Grantaire hesitated and sat down at a respectable distance from Enjolras, he accepted the cup of coffee offered and looked around the newly decorated space. He seemed to relax a fraction before he began,

“I don’t know how much you heard at the Musain the other night, but, I, umm, want you to know that I really don’t mind us just hanging out together doing our own things. I mean, people go on dates to get to know each other, right? But we already did that, so, like, we can skip to the boring domestic part that isn’t actually boring? We can just stay in and make dinner here and you can get your work done without compromising your already atrocious sleep schedule even more?”

Grantaire said it all in a rush with the air of someone who had rehearsed the script many times. A nervous Grantaire was a novelty and it was terribly endearing. Enjolras just loved learning something new every day.

He stood up and kissed Grantaire’s on the tip of his nose, kissing this man was quickly becoming a habit. “Could you wait here a minute?” he asked.

Grantaire gave a confused nod and Enjolras went to his bedroom and grabbed a small manila envelope he kept by his bedside table. He brought it out and dumped the contents onto the coffee table in front of the couch. Enjolras sat back down next to Grantaire before picking the items up at random and reading them out.

“October 2017, ImprovBoston, you wanted to try standup.

“May 2019, BU College of Fine Arts, you were an understudy in that weirdly good ballet.

“January 2018, your first student showcase after you accepted the fellowship, I didn’t really understand your pieces but I know they were gorgeous and you must have spent--”

Grantaire cut him off with a kiss, devouring Enjolras’ lips with a fierce tenderness. He seemed to put everything that couldn’t be said into the kiss, their passion, their mutual affection, and the unspoken devotion. His hands roaming all over Enjolras’ arms and back, depositing himself onto Enjolras’ lap in the process.

“I get it, _I_ am already time consuming.”

“No,” Enjolras said before he went back for another nip at Grantaire’s lower lip. “It is a privilege to have you in my life and you already are a part of me, as much as my work, our friends, our causes are.” He tightened his hold on Grantaire. “Being with you will take effort, but it won’t be a chore, just like being your friend wasn’t.”

Grantaire nodded, burying his nose in the crook of Enjolras’ neck and said, “Unfortunately, I do have assignments due after winter break...so, can I just be here and work next to you anyway?”

“Only if you promise to review my work before dinner.”

Grantaire laughed before grabbing his drawing tablet to start working. Later that afternoon, he read the speech on the couch, still sitting on Enjolras’ lap, wrapped firmly in his arms.

Enjolras could really work with this.

**Author's Note:**

> -If you do nothing else in Boston, please go see the [garden](https://www.gardnermuseum.org/experience/courtyard). My attempt at describing it definitely did not do the space justice. 
> 
> -Toast for dessert is a real and awesome [thing](https://www.japan-talk.com/jt/new/japanese-honey-toast). I have seen it in Japan and Thailand, but I'm sure a bunch of other countries do it too. Everyone go make one, thank me later.
> 
> -I know that nothing except Chinese restaurants are open on Christmas day, but just go with it here. Oh and while we're at it, this is a Covid-19 free universe, let me have that too.


End file.
